


Geralt Should Have Known

by Radenierafire



Series: Tumblr Prompts [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Canon-Typical Violence, Creature Jaskier | Dandelion, Fae Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, One Shot, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Sensory Overload
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:35:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24537817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radenierafire/pseuds/Radenierafire
Summary: @innocentbi-stander sent:“I saw your witcher writing prompt post! If you’re interested, I’m a total sucker for a BAMf jaskier who actually does know how to fight with weapons but his it from geralt, then the truth comes out.Hmmmmm maybe there’s something where he’s also actually part elf or fae? I’m always looking for an excuse for an immortal jaskier 😂Maybe his fighting skills get revealed when they’re being attacked? I love jaskier who can fight with daggers or a short sword.”EDIT: I've added a second chapter!
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Tumblr Prompts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1778863
Comments: 54
Kudos: 852





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm taking prompts on tumblr now! My username is iguessiwritethingsnow. I'm very new to this so bear with me, but feel free to send me something. If I can get to it, I definitely will <3
> 
> Minor Trigger Warning for Sensory Overload. It doesn't result in a panic attack, but it is used to incapacitate a main character.  
> EDIT: I've added a second chapter!

Geralt should have known. The moment he came into this town. Those looks. Looks that were usually only directed at him. Looks that extended this time even to Jaskier. Who stood closer to Geralt than usual. 

He should have known when the contract extended was easy. Ridiculously so. A single harpy? Jaskier was suspicious. He didn’t trust a town so full of hate and judgement to be willing to employ Geralt for something so seemingly easy to deal with. Though he was biased. His night of playing was rough and he didn't trust shitty patrons with shifty eyes. 

Regardless, Geralt went out, dealt with the problem at hand and then headed back to the tavern beneath the inn where they were staying. To clean up before going to the man who employed him. When Geralt returned, he found Jaskier in the tavern and stopped to let him know the plan. To ask him to start packing. They were interrupted by the barmaid, an angry old woman with a look of disgust. "Your employer is waiting for you. In the town square. Go collect your coin so you can be on your way."

"We are talking.” Jaskier said cooly, “He’s helped your town. You won't even let him stop to clean up and eat-" Jaskier starts. He knows Geralt needs time to let the adrenaline wear off, knows the less than pleasant response to collecting payment while still covered in blood. 

However, Geralt shook his head at Jaskier and regarded the woman carefully. He nodded his understanding and turned to Jaksier, promising that he'll return. Then he is on his way. 

He really should have known when he saw the man, standing in the middle of the town with an odd ring of metal poles slammed into the ground around him. They stand up in a circle, stabbed into the ground like those spears knights push into the earth, and then skewer the heads of the monsters they’ve slain on to. The spears and heads always stand as a warning. 

Geralt really should have known. 

But he was tired and this town made him uncomfortable. He and Jaskier both wanted to leave. So, he walked up to the man and explained in short detail how he dispatched the 'scary flying thing' he had been sent to kill. Even brought its wings back. If it hadn't been so vicious he may have spared it, but somethings were simply incapable of not killing. 

The man's eyes shifted around as Geralt spoke, making it even harder to focus. Geralt huffed and wrapped his arms over his chest. "I did as the contract expected, I'll take my payment-" he started only to stutter and choke as a loud sound resonated in his head. Geralt's hand flew up, pressing against his temple as though that would alleviate some of the pressure from the noise. It only got louder. Geralt tore his eyes from the man to look around and see a group of villagers surrounding them. They stood around the circle, clashing various tools and things against the metal poles in the ground. Metal on metal, an echoing clang that had Geralt falling to one knee. 

The man looked down at Geralt with a sneer. "You're not the first we've gotten rid of.” He spat. Quite literally, and Geralt wanted to scrub the dampness from his skin. These people . . . They, what? Set traps for witchers? “You won't be the last.” The man continued. “You abominations are brought here only by your own greed. In search of money to take from innocent humans. You're disgusting! And so is your friend- I'd be willing to bet that we don't even need the pipes to distract him, without you there I think he'll be taken care of quite easily-"

Geralt growled viciously but the noise of the poles served well in its purpose to incapacitate him. He could do no more than to focus his efforts on fighting the nausea rather than this bigot. 

He was trying to figure out the easiest way to get out of here, with the least amount of death. And then, from seemingly nowhere a voice called out, "You know. Of all the ways I've been called easy that one is the laziest, most hateful, and least true." Geralt looked up to see Jaskier walking into the circle. 

The clanging slowly stopped as the mob seemed to fall into an incredulous silence watching Jaskier. They looked to the man for some sort of instruction. 

Jaskier kept his eyes trained on the man as well, despite the urge to look at and take care of Geralt. "Come on now. Let us be reasonable. I shall take my companion from this town, free of charge despite his work. Call off your goons, and we'll be on our way."

"You,” the man sneered, “Are just as perverted as he is if you defend him over your own kind," the man retorted. 

Jaskier laughed, "You are wrong in more ways than you could possibly know." He said. 

And then many things happened. 

The clanging started again as the mob of angry people decided they’d had enough of Jaskier’s smart commentary, deciding without the man in charge that they wouldn’t stand for such disrespect. 

Geralt shifted on his knee to face Jaskier and tell him to leave, to get out of this town and wait for him somewhere else. Much to his surprise at that exact moment, Jaskier pulled a knife from seemingly nowhere. He flipped it in his hand with a practiced ease and then turned and flicked his wrist. It soared through the air and landed directly in the skull of a man who’d been trying to catch Jaskier off guard. He slowly sank to one knee, sputtering in his last moments.

In fury, a man nearly as large as Geralt charged towards Jaskier, roaring in his anger as his companion fell. Jaskier used the position to lunge forward, step on the man's propped up leg, and use it to jump off of. It provided him the perfect height to plunge another knife into the tall man’s eye. Geralt’s head was still pounding, but he was trying desperately to figure out where the hell these knives were coming from. 

Though the group was predominantly men, a woman full of hate pulled one of the poles from the ground and swung it at Jaskier. Geralt must have made a noise of distress, because Jaskier turned just in time to catch it before it connected with his head. It must have hit his hands hard because he winced. Geralt simply couldn’t sit back and watch this. Despite the noise he tried to stand, “Jaskier-” He started. The bard glanced over and shook his head. He pulled the pole from the woman’s hands and hit her hard in the ribs with it. She doubled over and Jaskier sidestepped over to Geralt. 

“Duck,” He said to Geralt and then shoved Geralt over. Later, Geralt would blame the nausea and disoriented mess for being the reason he was so easily knocked over. In the moment however, he simply found his face in the ground. 

Head swimming, with a mouthful of dirt, Geralt almost missed the feeling of warmth spreading over his back, pushing through the town square with substantial power. Yet, when he lifted his head he saw that many of the people who’d just been making such obnoxious noise were sent flying back and he heard that the noise had stopped. What happened after that he wasn’t sure. He remembered vague flashes of warmth and kind words from Jaskier. He smelled the familiar and soothing scent of Roach’s mane. He knew they were moving . . . and then? Nothing.

X 

Geralt wasn't sure when he closed his eyes, or for how long, but when he opened them again they were out in the forest. Jaskier had found them a small clearing, set up camp, started a fire, and started their dinner. The bard was sitting with his back mostly to the bedroll that Geralt has been laid out on. He was holding onto some animal, impaled on a stick, roasting it over the fire. 

"Jask-" Geralt started to speak, his voice coming out even more hoarse and gravel like than usual. He shifted to sit up. 

Jaskier turned to Geralt and shook his head, "Hey there, you big brute.” He said fondly, “Don't move alright? You were still swaying when we got here. And you had a terrible ache in your head. Just. Try to relax." Jaskier advised gently. "Try being the operative word, though I know you struggle with things that could bring you comfort." He said, a faint smile on his face. It was less easy than Jaskier’s usual grin, and he made no move to come closer to Geralt. Geralt wasn’t sure why.

Geralt grunted and finished sitting up. "The noise." He muttered. 

"Is what caught you off guard? Yes. I know. You needn’t defend yourself to me. Those awful poles. I saw them. Well. I heard them first, which is why I went off to find you. I figured it would be enough to hurt your ears, I'll admit I was surprised to see that such an ignorant town created such a clever trap. I didn't realize it was common knowledge that sensory overload was your weakness, obviously it was something I knew-" 

"And yet. You won't shut up." Geralt snapped. It wasn't unusual for Geralt to snap like that. He awaited the snarky response of irritation from his companion. 

Instead he got, "Mm, well. Yes. That's a good point." And then . . . Silence. 

Geralt looked over to Jaskier carefully, and slowly the details of the fight came back into his mind. Jaskier with the daggers. Jaskier stabbing a man in the eye. Jaskier somehow throwing back a dozen grown men . . . "What the fuck happened back there? How did you do- . . . All of that? Any of that?" Geralt asked slowly, clearly unsure how to word his questions to get himself the answers he wanted. "What did you do, towards the end- all I felt was heat-" 

Jaskier kept his eyes trained on the fire and nodded slowly. "Energy." He corrected. 

"Hmm?"

"All you felt- it was energy. Not necessarily heat. Not that they are dissimilar. Perhaps it was a gratuitous amendment, I just meant to clarify, but magic that makes heat often burns which is far more destructive than anything I can do- Than anything I want to do-" 

Geralt's mind faltered. He was still trying to wrap his head around seeing Jaskier be proficient in protecting himself against a large group of opponents, with daggers no less. But, "Magic?" Geralt asked, his foggy mind slowly clearing as he started to catch up with the conversation they were having.

". . . Yes." He said slowly. 

"Yes?" 

Jaskier's expression was guarded, careful. "Yes. I used magic. I wasn't really intending to but you got yourself into a rather tricky mess and I wanted to keep you safe so it seemed like the option I had at the time-" 

"Jaskier." Geralt interrupted, he didn’t have the capacity to listen to the rambling right now. "How can you use magic?” He asked directly. “You are . . . Just a bard." 

And if, for a moment, something like hurt broke the careful mask Jaskier had set in place? Well. The moment was brief and Jaskier quickly seemed impassive again. "I am a bard, but not just. I also happen to be- part fae." He said slowly. "Which- I'm aware. Is vague. But other than the slight magic and the never aging thing I don't know many details, what with my mother having to raise me as though the Viscount of Lettenhove was my father rather than whatever mystery man she was with when I was conceived." He said, his tone bitter and frustrated. “Perhaps if I knew more about it all I would have said something sooner, but I don’t know the details and if I happened to be one of the things that you are supposed to kill, I wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea of informing you-”

Geralt listened intently, his eyes searching Jaskier for the way that this revelation should change his appearance. For the tell tale sign that he was different now that Geralt knew the truth. There was none. He was still Jaskier. Jaskier who believed that Geralt could ever hurt him. Geralt deflated slightly. Perhaps he would have to work on convincing Jaskier of his own- significance in Geralt’s life. Then, Geralt's eyes hit Jaskier's hands, still holding the stick their dinner was on. They were red. Raw. Shaking. He reached out, carefully setting the stick and meat off to the side. Gently, he pulled Jaskier's hands into his lap and looked at them. "How did you burn yourself?" Geralt asked. 

"The uh- the poles were iron." Jaskier responded quietly. Iron was a well known repellent for fae-folk of many kinds.

Geralt frowned and gently held Jaskier's wrists. "Can I bandage them for you?" He asked quietly. And despite the tension in the air Jaskier recognized that request for what it was. A silent  _ Thank You.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to comment! (Also, go listen to The Amazing Devil. They are phenomenal.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a bard. As though being a bard was synonymous to being a sub-class of humanity. A horrible and offensive thought . . .   
> But Jaskier feels as though he's pushed his luck enough, as it is, so he will try to do better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TangApple asked, and you all have received. (I actually had more than one person mention/ask if I was ever going to address the kinda shitty assumption that Geralt made about Jaskier being inept because he is a bard. So, yeet.) But seriously, this lovely user has been giving me such wonderful feedback the last 24 hours, that I had to. They inspired me!

It wasn’t as though things shifted substantially. Just enough to notice. They shifted slightly to the left side of normal. Perhaps if they’d shifted to the right, it would not have been bothersome. Perhaps it would have brought them closer. Instead, Geralt and Jaskier’s interactions changed just so, that it left a bitter taste in Geralt’s mouth. They shifted just in the way that Jaskier started to sleep with his back to Geralt. He’d lay his bedroll out on the other side of the camp and face the cold of the trees and darkness that surrounded them. They shifted just in the way that the bard held his tongue more often. When Geralt was too harsh or made a low comment in the heat of his anger, Jaskier simply took it in and accepted the criticism. They shifted just in the way that he didn’t play his lute anymore when they had to share rooms at an inn. It wasn’t drastic, but just enough to notice. 

And Geralt sure had noticed. 

He hated it.

To be completely fair, he supposed he understood. He couldn’t quite blame Jaskier for not knowing how to navigate their relationship with this truth out in the world. After all, Jaskier’s words often rang in Geralt’s head. The words about Jaskier being one of the very things that Geralt often set out to kill. The sentiment was true, Geralt supposed. Faefolk often got themselves into trouble when they started to use their magic to hurt men. Those men often reached out to witchers in the hopes that the hunters would be immune to the magic and able to help rid the area of such influences. Geralt had, in fact, done just that, many times. 

However, he liked to think that Jaskier knew him well enough to know that Geralt was not merciless. He was not the ruthless killer that his reputation suggested. Jaskier had been around long enough to know that Geralt did occasionally let creatures go. He should have known by now that Geralt didn’t set out to every contract with the goal of taking a life, but rather to settle a problem between the creatures and the humans. He had no opposition to letting something go, so long as he could trust that they would not hurt others. Quite suddenly, Geralt realized that he hadn’t exactly shown Jaskier his trust. The bard had no reason to believe that Geralt trusted him, in general, and especially not to hurt others. 

Geralt found himself wondering how many times he had said something to solidify those thoughts in Jaskier’s head. How many times Geralt had cursed fae-folk for being such nuisances. With their spells and enchantments that made them difficult to find, or difficult to reason with. Or how many times Geralt had muttered his frustration at them for being so difficult to kill. They were, but such complaints were callous and assuming. Such complaints were so blatant that Jaskier had no choice but to believe that Geralt wouldn’t accept him. 

More than that, Geralt found himself wondering how many times he had hurt Jaskier by assuming he was human. Why had he been so blind to the bard’s nature? He should have done better. Should have been better. How many times had he tossed a piece of iron, perhaps one of his daggers, in Jaskier’s direction to be cleaned? As though it weren’t insulting enough for Geralt to have assumed Jaskier would clean his weapons for him, Geralt added injury to such insults by scorching the skin on Jaskier’s hands. And yet? Jaskier simply took them. He never complained about the pain of such a material burning his skin. Instead, he cleaned the daggers that he’d been asked to, and tucked them safely back away with Geralt’s other weapons. If he had been burned by the activities, he did a very good job hiding it. Geralt realized that Jaskier often helped him clean his weapons.

Weapons Geralt had used to kill magical creatures. 

So, yes, he understood why Jaskier didn’t trust him. Yet, he still hated this shift between them. The first few days he attributed it to the burns on Jaskier’s hands. Sleeping away from the fire to escape the excess heat, being incapable of playing the lute for the pain, and perhaps the silence was due to distraction. Discomfort was an efficient diversion from the need to maintain an incessant drabble. Yet . . . after those days passed, when Jaskier’s hands healed? He was still reserved. Geralt may have understood why, but he hated it.

Jaskier, for his part, seemed to be trying to be subtle. When he pulled from Geralt he did it under the guise of searching for some piece of parchment to write on or to grab some food to eat. When he flinched at Geralt’s sudden movements, he smoothed it over as though it was just a reflex to follow Geralt. When Geralt returned from a hunt in the middle of Jaskier’s set, Jaskier sang a song or two more before claiming a sore throat and ending his concerts early. It was all a carefully kept facade of almost normal as if Jaskier could hide the fact that they’d taken this slight step to the left. 

He couldn’t.

But he came close. With the easy way that Jaskier seemed to smooth it all over, this place next to their normal became the new usual. It was different, but they slowly got used to it. The discomfort, the unease. Geralt hated it, but he had little choice but to accept it. So, they learned to live in this new dynamic, and slowly but surely things started to seem alright. 

Geralt found a way to be alright with the silence he’d once asked for but grew comfortable without. He accepted that Jaskier was not comfortable around him physically, and kept his distance. The only thing Geralt really couldn’t find himself settling was the strange new aversion Jaskier had to playing his lute around Geralt. However, even that became a part of this life they lived now. Soon enough, they had nothing more to do than to keep traveling as they had before. From town to town, picking up contracts, moving on.

X

Geralt stooped to pack back away the coin from his contract. He slipped it into the bag that sat beside Roach. All of their bags laid on the forest floor. In this small clearing, they had a fire that was lit, and Jaskier was scribbling away in one of his notebooks near the edge of the camp. He looked rather comfortable, sitting up against one of the bigger trees. Perhaps he would have been more comfortable sitting up in a bed, but they had made do with the spot they found. Geralt and Jaskier had rarely stayed in towns for the last few weeks. Geralt knew that Jaskier missed the comforts of an inn, but Jaskier knew that Geralt had been set on edge being caught off guard by humans. So, Jaskier didn’t complain. The kindness relieved some of the tension in Geralt’s shoulders as he puttered about the camp after he finished his contract. 

“If you want to set out the bedrolls and such, I’ll go find us some dinner,” Geralt offered.

Jaskier nodded his agreement quietly but glanced up from his notebook. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to go? You did just return from a hunt of sorts, you could stay, relax a bit . . .” He offered.

Geralt shook his head ever so slightly, “I’d like to eat sometime soon,” he teased lightly. Jaskier always took forever to hunt, he wasn’t very good at it. Geralt was tired and hungry. He didn’t want to wait.

For a moment, it seemed as though Jaskier was going to argue, but then he simply closed his mouth. He nodded again, this time in complete succession. He got up and went to their bags, starting to get out and set up their bedrolls and what not. He could finish setting up camp with ease. So, Geralt hummed quietly and took back off into the forest. 

As he promised, it did not take him long, and within the hour he was back with three rabbits to be cooked. He dropped them at Jaskier’s feet. In the time it had taken Geralt to get them, he noticed, Jaskier had finished setting up their camp and bedrolls and brushed Roach down. “Make yourself useful and skin them, would you?” He teased. Geralt tossed his dagger to Jaskier, who caught it and nodded silently. 

The silence wasn’t uncommon these days, but it still made Geralt uneasy. Though it was odd, to feel unsettled by the lack of noise, Geralt found himself needing to fill it. “So . . . The contract . . .” He started. In halting and awkward sentences he explained to Jaskier what he’d been up against and how he’d taken it down. He detailed the events of his day while he started to carefully take off his armor and clean it before tucking it away into his bag. “I got the head off cleanly, but . . . it bled. A lot.” Jaskier seemed to be listening intently, but he kept his face down and his eyes quite sternly on his own hands and their task with the rabbits. 

“The commissioner was thankful. Even paid extra. I told her not to. She did not listen.” Geralt said. There was nothing poetic about his recounting, but he was sure that Jaskier could turn it into a song if he’d wanted to . . . well, assuming that Jaskier was listening to him. “Jask?” Geralt spoke quietly.

Jaskier’s eyes flitted up to Geralt and he smiled to show that he’d heard the story, that he was thankful. Yet, there was a hard set to his jaw that made Geralt frown. “Are you- . . .?” Geralt wanted to ask if Jaskier was alright, but it seemed like such a stupid question. He paused in taking off his own armor to step towards Jaskier. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jaskier answered immediately. Too immediately to be sincere.

Geralt’s frown only grew and he stepped forward, “I’m not sure I believe you, you’re looking at that rabbit like it personally offended you. When you’re the one holding the knife and cutting into-” his eyes widened and Geralt stepped forward knocking the dagger out of Jaskier’s hand. His now very red hand. “Jaskier!” Geralt growled. He knelt before the bard and pulled Jaskier’s hand towards himself, holding Jaskier by the wrist. “The fuck?”

“Skinning the rabbit. Making myself useful.” Jaskier said quietly, though there was a wave of simmering anger in his tone. “Like you asked.” He stated it like it was obvious. Perhaps it should have been. After all, it wouldn’t have been the first time that Geralt had given Jaskier such a task unknowingly. 

“That knife is made of iron-” Geralt snapped.

Jaskier rolled his eyes, “You gave me that knife,” he reminded.

Geralt only growled louder, “I didn’t think-”

“Which is fine, you don’t have to.” Jaskier adamantly stared right back at Geralt. 

Geralt huffed, “Are you kidding me? Of course, I should. I’m not trying to hurt you-”

“I’m not going to get hurt skinning a rabbit, Geralt.”

Why on earth was the bard being so ridiculous and stubborn? “You will if you’re using an iron knife to do it, and you’re part fae. You said it yourself, it burns you.” Geralt’s eyes narrowed and he snarled slightly, furious with Jaskier’s refusal to act like any of this mattered. Like any of this was happening at all. “You’re not going to change, stop behaving so- strangely!”

“Excuse me?” Jaskier looked offended.

Geralt couldn’t for the life of him understand this man. “You’ve been acting . . . odd.” He snapped. “Unlike yourself.”

The bard scoffed. “Oh?”

“Yes,” Geralt grit out. “I don’t . . . I don’t know how to take care of this version of you.” He huffed.

Jaskier’s brows shot up. The expression would have been sort of endearing if he didn’t look so furious. “Of fucking course you think you have to take care of me now, you cock.” He shook his head and tried to pull his wrist out of Geralt’s grasp. “I am not- You giant git- You aren’t- We- I’m no less than you! You- You oafish git with the sympathetic capacity of a blade of grass.”

It was more bite than Geralt had heard from Jaskier in weeks. Though Geralt wanted to be offended by the remark, he was just thankful that Jaskier had stopped refraining. Well. He was thankful, but the shock won over both the gratitude and the offense, “What?” He breathed dumbly, his hand releasing Jaskier’s wrist and falling back into his own lap.

“I know that you’ve probably got it in your head that I am some stupid creature that cannot take care of itself, and I realize now that you’ve spent this entire companionship seeing me as a burden, but-”

“What?” Geralt repeated.

“Don’t play dumb, witcher, you aren’t an idiot and I will not grant you ignorance-based innocence on the false implication that you are one,” Jaskier said. He lifted his chin to the side and looked down in a rather haughty fashion. 

Geralt sat there for a few moments in confusion and silence. “What has convinced you that you’re seen as a burden?” He inquired cautiously, trying not to make this worse.

Jaskier huffed a sarcastic laugh, “Well, I can’t see many more uses for someone considered ‘just a bard’ than to be in the way and too loud.” The explanation was cold, and seemed to only grow colder as Jaskier added. “Actually, see, no, I can see plenty of uses for a bard. But given my knowledge of your views and opinions of my trade, forgive me for being disheartened by your apparent disregard of anything else about me.”

Fuck. “You’ve stopped singing.” Geralt said quietly. “And playing your lute . . . you’ve been trying to be less . . . bard-ish.” The realization was not a welcome one, and Geralt quite suddenly felt awful. 

Such a feeling was only exacerbated when something more genuine than anger slipped over Jaskier’s face. “Well. Yes.” He retorted simply. “You’ve recently discovered that I am- less than human.” Jaskier wrapped his arms over his own chest in a defiant manner that his expression contradicted. “And I’ve recently discovered that you’ve always viewed me as a lesser-human. Obviously you’ll have to forgive me for trying to eliminate as many factors as I can that might have been persuading you that I’m not worthy of. . .”  _ Respect. Patience. Life. Anything. _ The sentiment was left unspoken, but even Geralt could hear it. 

And he hated it. “Jaskier,” Geralt said quietly, and shifted forward, sitting beside Jaskier rather than kneeling in front of him. “You. Are one of the most incredible performers in the world,” Geralt said quietly. “And being fae means nothing more to me than the fact that it gives us more time to travel together should you choose to keep following me.” He explained. “I see things on a scale of- ‘Level Of Threat’.” It was a difficult concept to negotiate, but he had to. “I saw you as just a bard. But only in the respect that I did not see you as a threat.” He admitted quietly. “I’ve realized recently that that has more to do with you being someone I trust than based on your profession because even after realizing what you can do . . . I still don’t see you as a threat.” 

Jaskier slowly glanced over at Geralt and his jaw began to drop. “You don’t . . .”

Geralt shook his head.

“Oh . . .” Jaskier mumbled quietly and slowly started to deflate. “I- Well, you see- I just- I thought-” He shook his head, “We’ve made quite a mess of this, haven’t we.” 

Geralt nodded, a small smile pulling at his lips.

Jaskier took a moment to gather his thoughts before he finally nodded, “I’m sorry. For not having spoken with you directly. I allowed my own paranoia to convince me not to trust you. You deserve better. And I will do better . . .” He promised. Taking a slow breath, he looked over at Geralt. “For the record . . . I’m glad you know. I always wanted to tell you . . .”

The smile grew and Geralt nodded again. “I’m also glad I know. Perhaps I’ll be able to get you to stop holding iron when you don’t need to.” He teased lightly.

Jaskier smiled ever so slightly. “Perhaps.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always. Please go listen to The Amazing Devil. (And comment if you'd like . . . bc we've just proven that comments quite literally make me write more.)


End file.
